Bird Of Prey
by Chellifornia
Summary: He didn't know that a new part of her had just been born. How Barbara Gordon could have been introduced in the Batman Begins Universe. Oneshot.


_Bird of Prey_

_A/N: __So, here's my first Batfic. Here's the thing about the OC in this story: she's not an OC! I'm a comic book fan, and the idea of putting classic Batman characters in a realistic setting just __inspired__ me! So here's a story about James Gordon's other child: Barbara, the girl who would be Batgirl, and later Oracle. This would probably be better suited for the general DC fic section, but what can I say? I like the best of both worlds. Please R/R!_

_**Disclaimer:**__I do not own Batman, James Sr., James Jr., or Barbara. They belong to some old guys._

James was the favorite.

Commissioner Gordon always doted on his son, talked to him every night, entertaining him with tales of the infamous Batman, a man so shrouded in mystery some say he evolved from a vampire bat into a human, or was once a normal man before being bitten by one of such creatures. Gordon, against his better judgment, turned this masked fugitive into something special to the boy: a hero, a fairytale. He was every young boy's dream. James Jr. spent many a night leaping from his bed with a black towel around his neck. Gordon tried to make his boy like any normal boy, and tried to teach him everything he needed to know about being a man.

Barbara was always the smart one.

Sure, it stung when Gordon left his adopted daughter out in his fantastic tales, but he gave her something much more important: her first trip to Gotham Central. Her mother discouraged it, saying it wasn't becoming of a young girl to be exposed to such horrid realities, but Babs was fascinated: she held onto every word when Detective Ramirez came in with the latest update on a case. Crispus Allen tried to downplay it in front of her, whispering every time when she was in the room. But that new girl, Renee Montoya, didn't hold back. She was a tough, no-punches-pulled girl who even offered to show the young Barbara the latest mugshots (this was, thankfully, warded off by the commissioner).

Barbara was a sharp one; she understood how the world worked, she had no fantasies or misconceptions about that. When James was buying action figures, she was in the library, poring over a new book. She realized she could blaze through a book and remember every word, a talent her father discredited, but she knew would come in handy one day. No book was safe from her prying eyes. When the commissioner was telling stories, she was taking lessons of all kinds: gymnastics, karate, and, yes, librarian work. Her interest in the Batman was purely analytical: she tried to apply his tactics to the real world, studying him. She heard her father call him a menace, and a wanted vigilante. But Barbara could detect that hint of admiration; he knew he had style.

She knew the dangers; she knew the risks of the Bat's life. But her father's job was just as dangerous. She remembered the Joker debacle a few years back. When she first saw a picture of that insane, grinning criminal, she felt only a seething, burning hatred for the monster who tried to tear her family apart. She was not afraid of him.

A book on aerodynamics taught her how zip lines worked: she fashioned her own with simple tools and wires. She started small: no leaping from buildings in Hong Kong, just from her building to the next. She cast the line and smiled to herself when the line held taut. The exhilaration that had unexpectedly bubbled up in her chest told her one thing: her smarts had come through for her again, and she felt invincible.

Her obsession with the Dark Knight was quite different from her brother's. She only believed in cold, hard facts and logic; James loved the fantasy aspect. Barbara knew that there was a way this mysterious man could operate the way he did, it was just a matter of piecing the puzzle together. She never had time for trifles, and thus grew up quickly. She never stopped to realize that part of her obsession was for her father; to earn his love like her brother did, and to know why Batman saw more of her own father than she did.

Things changed one day, when she came home from kendo lessons to hear her parents' raised voices. It was no question what (or, in this case, who) the fight was about.

She only heard fragments of words: "Hurt", "Insane", "Criminal", "Obsessed", words she heard many times before. She heard her father storm out, probably back to the office. She followed him, telling her mother some malarkey about a forgotten book.

Her father was moving quickly; she couldn't keep up with him. He was going down an unfamiliar path, and it was growing dark. She never realized that as she was following him, someone else was following her.

The night fell quickly, and Barbara meant to call out to her father, perhaps to ask where he was going; the words died in her throat as she was grabbed roughly; a man in a rumpled suit had taken hold of her arm, a heavy scowl on his face…

She barely heard her father's shout, she was so flustered and afraid and just fresh from her martial arts lesson that she did the only thing she could think of at this point: pull her other arm pack and deliver a swift, frightened rabbit-punch to the man's throat.

He staggered and threw her against the ground like so much used tissue; in her fear she misaimed her punch. By now, it was too late. She was so filled with dread and adrenaline from that surprise show of aggression that she couldn't move, couldn't think. When suddenly…

It happened so fast. A scream left her as a furious mass of black landed in front of her; in a matter of moments her assailant was thoroughly incapacitated. Her father was at her side; she hugged him without thinking, only focused on the dark figure before her.

Unlike many people before her, she did not look at the man with fear, but with a curiosity and almost scientific fascination. She knew how he worked. She'd tried it out many a time. But she studied him now, the original, working model of an experiment.

"You all right, Gordon?" His voice was a surprise, deep and gruff, lending credence to the urban myths about his…otherworldliness.

"I'm alright," her father said, equally gruffly. She cowered under his piercing gaze. "My daughter, however, is not. She'll be in a hell of a lot of trouble when she gets home."

The man in black stepped toward her. She couldn't see his eyes, but could feel the reprimand waiting in them.

"I hope you realize what a stupid thing you just did," he said, his voice rumbling.

Barbara couldn't feel anything; she was lightheaded from being assaulted and from being in the presence of a man she admired greatly. He couldn't just chastise her like this. He may have thought he was a beast, but he was just a man.

"For following my father, or trying to defend myself?" She asked, feeling malevolent all of a sudden.

Commissioner Gordon shook her, exasperatedly. "You could've gotten killed!"

He pointed a grizzled finger over her shoulder. "You go right back home. I have work to do."

"Not safe at this time at night," said the Batman, gruffly. "You go with her; I've got it taken care of."

"You always do," Gordon muttered. He put his arm around his daughter's shoulders. "Call me in the morning if you have any news."

The Batman nodded; he turned his gaze back to the girl. "I hope you've learned a lesson from this. I hear tell you're a sharp girl."

"I know you now," she whispered. She stared into the deep black depths of his cape. "We're not so different."

Her father led her away, not knowing that a new part of her had just been born. She never really wanted anything in her life; nothing really interested her, so she resigned to the life of a librarian. But there was no other life she ever wanted more.

Years later, when James dreamed about his life scaling buildings and fighting crime with the caped crusader, Barbara Anne Gordon _lived_ it.

_The End_


End file.
